


Alola's Assets

by shortlived



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alcohol, Gen, Gossip, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 09:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18178739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortlived/pseuds/shortlived
Summary: Dexio and Sina have been sent to Alola to uncover why components of Zygarde have been sighted so far abroad.This isn't a story about that, but about what they get up to inbetween.(Body rating, and love life guessing. And fruit-infused tequilas.)





	Alola's Assets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Potaterto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potaterto/gifts).



> Warnings: It's not that sexy despite the tag. It's a lot more gossipy.

**melemele;**   


“Is that another cocktail?” Dexio asks. Sina raises a forefinger, wagging it in time to his name.

“Dexio. Dexio, Dexio, Dexio,  _ Dexio _ . Please, these aren’t  _ cocktails _ ,” she corrects, bringing up her glass: the drink is the colour of a blood red sun reflected on the ocean, crushed into ice.  _ “These _ are fruit-infused tequilas. A specialty at this fine bar I’ve found for the two of us to enjoy, and you’re not living it up more.”

Dexio would roll his eyes, sigh, or some combination of the two, but he’s long beyond the former reaction, and saves the latter for special occasions. You should always know better, see:  _ Sina _ isn’t a synonym for simple, straightforward or patient. If you go to the bathroom and she’s found a new bar and table for the both of you, well, you better go find it and enjoy. There were only excuses before apologies.

“Odd, I didn’t think we were planning to get wasted on the first night,” he remarks, slipping into a seat adjacent to her. There’s a busy ambience around them, bodies and so many tall umbrellas over tables—like theirs—and people, but there’s privacy as well, space. The scenery goes out to Melemele’s beaches, and admittedly, it’s a far better pick than the small bar by the street they’d first found.

“This isn’t getting wasted. Dexio!” His name is offence on her lips, and she pulls down on her purple-tinted sunglasses, examining him carefully over the rim. “Are you a lightweight? Also, this isn’t just about drinking. It’s about learning.”

“Uh oh.”

“Don’t uh oh me.” She takes off the sunglasses, setting them aside as the glass goes up for another sip. “Look, I got us a good table, we can see the beach, the sea… and all of the people. It’s good to be able to read people, you know. Keeps you sharp,” she says, tapping the side of her head.

“Uh huh.”

Her mouth pulls into a taut line, and she waves her free hand at him. “Go to the bar and get one of the drinks with pinap berries. I want a taste.”

He does, because why not; there was no way they were going to get right into why they had come all the way out to Alola on the first day, and he wasn’t as much of a bore as Sina liked to insinuate sometimes. _ ‘One of the drinks with pinap berries’  _ however is more than a few of the selections, thick glass dispensers decorating an entire section of wall at different levels, colourful and juice-like. How many sad kids there must’ve been walking past wanting a taste, but oh no, Timmy, that is  _ not  _ kid juice. That’s mummy and daddy juice.

But oh, was mummy and daddy juice just as easy to knock back once you got going. 

_ “So,”  _ Sina starts, voice huskier than it was half an hour ago, more than just blood in her system, “those two there. Curly brunette and blushing boy. What do you think of them?”

She’s pointing somewhere towards the beach, but Dexio can’t guess the exact pair she means on a space currently enjoyed by more than just two people. He takes off his sunglasses and spots— kinda what might match Sina’s description. A young man and woman about their age, their backs to them, sitting on a towel and talking with smiling faces.  _ His  _ shoulders were skin burnt, maybe his face too (he couldn’t see well), but her skin blended better with the sun, her hair more like thick spirals than what he’d describe as simple curls.

Regardless. “Think?” he repeats.

“Yes! Tell me about them,” she says.

Uhhhh. “Well…”

“Are they together?”

“Well, yes?” he guesses. “Probably.”

“What tells you that?”

“They’re… sitting together?”

“No, you— How do you know they’re not just related?”

“You want to say they’re related now.”

Sina shoves the side of him. “Tell me!”

He’s grinning, but Dexio looks back. Really, the ideas Sina sometimes gets! But here he is, trying to play guessing games about the marital status of two strangers. He couldn’t spot any wedding bands of either of their hands, no rings at all… They weren’t holding hands either, though they were still comfortably close…

“They’re sharing a beach towel,” Dexio goes for. Sina brightens beside him.

“Yes! And look, she’s far too pretty just for a brother or cousin, or—or what have you. She wants to charm him, puts all the work into it. How long do you think her hair took her? Honestly,” Sina sighs with disappointment, “I give her an eight out of ten, the man a four. Look at those shoulders!”

“Did the professor know this is what you would be doing when he sent us out here?” Dexio asks before taking a sip. Sina doesn’t lose composure under the subtle jab, slipping her sunglasses to sit back into her hair, before her hat.

“The professor  _ knows  _ I’m a professional,” she replies easily, raising her glass. She then pauses open mouthed, and, “And look at that professional piece of art coming up, Dexio—”

Dexio searches automatically for whatever she’s gawking at now, humour caught in his throat that he was ready to turn into words. But they don’t formulate when eyes finds Sina’s professional art, turning instead into a lump, an  _ oh.  _ Dark skin covered every inch of the young man, revealed by the mercy—the curse?—he shared with onlookers to wear only the slimmest speedos; and upwards Dexio followed the v-cut line chiselled to the ladder made by his abs, becoming so more defined by closer they got to his pecs, his biceps...

And what biceps. Oh. Oh  _ indeed. _

“Ten,” Dexio breathes, then corrects, “Twenty.”

“See,  _ now  _ you get it, my dear Dexio,” Sina says, a little airily herself. They both keep a mutual silence as they observe their sculpture leave the beach and into the crowd of another bar. Ah, why couldn’t have Sina’s instincts taken them to that one? Maybe he had lost enough inhibitions to invite himself over, say hello, ask for a name.

Ha. If only.

“Now, twelve o’clock, red and green,” Sina soon continues them along. “Eight and seven.”

Taking any excuse not to make a fool of himself, Dexio redirects his gaze easily. Two men sitting at a picnic-esque table up ahead, a red-and-white shirt and jeans on the left, black button shirt and short green trousers for the other (clever, Sina). They sit on the same side, slightly facing into one another, though the ginger—’Green’—is easier for him to see the profile of. A slim nose, softer tanned skin, an easy sly smile that seemed to be part of his resting face; an easy charmer, for sure. Dressed better than their tee and jean companion.

And—was that a pikachu sitting on the table drinking from a glass with a flower on its ear? Oh, cute.

Anyway: “Seven?”

“What?” Surprise lifts Sina’s voice. “You would go higher?”

“Seven and eight, anyway—”

“What! Dexio, please, compare—”

“Or five and six. I can’t see their faces as good as you.” Not her _ ‘Red’ _ anyway, that she was so adamant over. Was a guy dressed so...dull, so appealing?

“Well then, nicer ass: pick one.”

“Green. —Wait,” he says, spinning his head quick to stare at Sina with a brow undecided if to raise higher up his head or to drop straight down. “What?”

Sina stares back, her shock coloured by a disappointment that drips off her tongue as she brings down her sunglasses over her eyes.  _ “Dexio.” _

What? He just— 

Oh, it wasn’t worth the energy to argue  _ tastes.  _ Not with a woman who would pick a guy in a plain hat before one who knew how to dress himself!

 

* * *

 

**akala;**

Of course, Alola isn’t all fun and play. Dexio complains all the next day about sleeping poorly, the wimp! But it doesn’t stop them from beginning their research into the Z-Rings and their history in the islands’ traditions, and figuring out exactly why sightings of Zygarde’s cells and cores have been spotted so far away from the Kalos region.

There’s easier questions to the first than the second, but time doesn’t seem to be too much of the essence; and, there might be a very probable answer to be found in the phenomenon of  _ aliens from another dimension actually coming through and into their world! _

“Sina, you don’t deserve to be so well-treated by this world,” Dexio had commented in his casual, easy way upon her excitement. Excuse him; she was a  _ gift _ to this planet!

And a gift to him, though he never thanks her in the instances where it would be appropriate. Like recognising the good times and  _ best  _ places for them to recuperate from walking, travelling, going from one end to another of some road, city, island! From Melemele Island to Akala, where the open beaches lessen, but the sights don’t. 

She pulls on his sleeve while catching a tan on one beach, her designer sunglasses raised, eyes properly transfixed on the high waves.

_ “Dexio.” _

And on _ more  _ than that. There amongst the board surfers, tentacool and sharpedos  _ (sharpedos!  _ As if she was ever going to go swimming here!) were their boys:  _ Red  _ and  _ Green _ , though only  _ Red  _ had decided to wear trunks the colour of his nickname, Green going for a darkened pair. Oh, but their trunks were hardly worth thinking about at such a distance. Unless, of course, they decided to go  _ au revoir. _

She almost hadn’t recognised them, her Mister Eight without his hat, and looking closer to a nine for it. That and the lack of a shirt, of jeans. Sharpedos came darting for him and his matine, and the two leaned in sync with each other whilst it zoomed too quickly by to turn, climbing the waves that seemed to never end, dancing off and over, to find another high current to flirt with.

And Green? Oh, he wasn’t far behind. But, you know, that was  _ Dexio’s  _ Mister Eight to admire. Dexio’s Mister  _ Lacking a Proper Tan  _ Eight, that is.

“Well! Isn’t that something?” Dexio remarks, his nose out his magazine. They had beach chairs, they had the sun, and of course Dexio wanted to read. “Then again, they must be tourists. It’s no wonder.”

“Do you think so?” she asks.

“Don’t they look so?”

“You can’t just judge a body by its assets!” Sina explains, a forefinger up. She then pauses. “Okay, except you  _ can _ ,” she corrects with a grin, finger now curled.

_ “You  _ can.”

“The world didn’t put beautiful people on this planet to be ignored.” Which as a Kalosian just like her, you’d think Dexio would know! But, then again—“And I can’t believe  _ you  _ met Steven Stone and never told me.”

Because oh, oh  _ no,  _ she wasn’t about to let  _ that  _ recently learnt tidbit from Dexio’s history books be dropped any time soon. Who kept meeting one of the most handsome Champions to ever grace the lands from their best friend, their partner in crime? Steven Stone was one of the only foreign Champions she knew.  _ And  _ for good reason.

“I didn’t really meet him…” Dexio tries to worm himself out with.

“You didn’t  _ try. _ ” Which just makes it all the more sad. The life Dexio used to lead without her. “Would you?”

“Would…” It takes him a moment, then clicks. “Who wouldn’t?”

“And you still didn’t try!”

Didn’t even speak to the man, when he was right there! 

“Sina, you’re shameless,” Dexio chastises lightly, but it doesn’t phase her. A well-dressed specimen of Hoenn like Stone graced the magazines in Kalos from time to time, and she had found articles in the more specialised of magazines that couldn’t  _ not  _ go without his picture attached. Even a piece detailing research into the planet’s deepest seas possibly uncovering new resources would capture him naturally perfect, with not a shirt cuff out of place,  his ice-crushed eyes that could make her shiver any time of week they wanted in view.

Oh, if  _ she  _ had an hour with him… “Sina, your guys.”

“Hm?” She comes away from well-pressed vests and the sun on the back of her eyelids, returning to jewel-blue seas and golden beaches. And there, with sand already coating their lower legs like salt on a tequila glass, were her primary colours closer in the flesh. Better defined flesh, the sun kinder on Monsieur Red’s skin before Green’s, and oh, did the exclusion of a hat really do wonders for her man. Meanwhile, his trunks did nothing to tell her about his goods, but _that’s_ what a woman’s imagination was for! And did she ever have an imagination.

“Ohhhh, see,  _ look  _ at them! How can you pick Green over Red?” Sina whines. Really! Sometimes she didn’t get her friend.

“Like  _ this _ , sure!” Dexio tries to defend himself. “But this is a lot different. You can definitely guess a lot more about their lower, well. Assets.”

“Lower assets! Oh, Dexio.” She swung her gaze on him, seeing too much innocence in his expression.  _ “Would  _ you?”

And then she sees as that innocence dies; in his widened eyes, the press of his lips. Dexio sighs loudly and turns away, but Sina is well-enough indulged, resting back in her chair. She really needed to think about getting her boy laid, by the looks of things.

“Well, they’re probably boyfriends anyway,” she continues, resuming her man-watching, for now. They were headed for a pair of beach towels, and maybe she was off the mark there? Hmm.

Dexio scoffs beside her. “You don’t gauge they’re adventurous?”

The question was sarcastic, but it brightened her regardless. “ _ Now _ you’re getting into the spirit! But  _ hmm _ … what do you think? It’s hard for me to say. I bet our green likes a little domination,” she muses.

Now he had her going, although watching the leg muscles of Red work—definitely an active lifestyle, if not one to hit the workout kind of gyms—had her attention for the time until he sat, the pair close, even if on separate towels. Their body structure wasn’t all too dissimilar, but the curves were easier to find on Monsieur  _ Rouge _ than  _ Vert _ , while Vert’s appeal was more in his atmosphere, even in the distance between them.

But distance didn’t make it any harder to tell the ease the darker haired man could push the other beneath him, hands cuffing his wrists down. The  _ view  _ Green would have of that body above him, and the feeling of what those hands could truly do with just the press of them locking his wrists closer to the sand.

Dexio laughs beside her, outside of the world of her fantasies. “Oh, what? Whips and chains?”

“Oh, no, too hard for him! Not for our Green. And you mean a flogger.” Dexio stares narrow-browed, and she makes a quick slapping motion in the air with a hand. “With the tassles?”

“How do you— no,” Dexio decides smartly, “I don’t want to know. Alright, and why not the other guy.”

_ “I  _ wouldn’t mind giving his rear some colour.” His ass well-exposed, pushed up, the bumps of his spine a bridge for her fingers to climb over, and her reliving some of her more experimental days? Sign her up; she’d like to know if he was a moaner, if he liked to be teased perhaps by a finger between his cheeks... “But the ginger, he doesn’t look like a bottom to you?”

“And how would you know  _ that? _ ”

“Dexio…” 

Oh, young, sweet innocent Dexio. She looks at him clear and surely, her smile contained on her lips, her cheeks flush and warm; and Dexio near about begins to be quizzical about her implications, his own lips parted to speak.

But suddenly he knows better, shooting up from his chair, magazine curled in hand and sunglasses back down. 

“Nope, nope, that’s it for me,” Dexio sings. “Good bye, Sina!”

She laughs the entire time he walks away, only spotting sometime after the small yellow sight of a pikachu surfing atop a miniature surfboard, and giggles herself up a storm.

Oh, the fun that life brings!

 

* * *

 

**ula'ula;**

Apart from Sina’s ridiculous insistence on visiting bars every night (every other night, when she could be reasoned with), they  _ were  _ doing well in their information gathering. They found their very own assistant in Zygarde core and cell collecting in a trainer-to-be jumping between the islands too, and had their first check-up arranged with Lysandre before they moved from Akala and Ula’ula. Which turned their call with Lysandre into bad timing, when the Hokulani Observatory they happened to visit the next island over opened doors into surprisingly relative information to their own research!

Space has always been a curiosity across the world, across time, when  _ space  _ could only be imagined by the human mind as  _ sky  _ than anything more vast and and deeper. But the effects that foreign elements outside their atmosphere had once in it had Dexio’s interest glued to every word the researchers had to spare with them. In exchange, of course, for their knowledge of the Anistar City sundial, and its connection to Mega Evolution.

What did it mean? What  _ could  _ it mean, for their world?

“Speaking of space,” Sina had earnestly interjected, “do you know if it’s true that clefairy are really from outer space?”

Oh, Sina.

Ula’ula Island wasn’t as prominent with their bars as the other two islands had been before it, a point that made Sina chew the inside of her cheek until they heard about the “imported city” of Malie to the northeast, and the teashop to be found inside a garden styled by Johtonian ancestors.

But when they found it, the teashop had apparently missed the mark with Sina’s imagination, by the weighted brow above her eyes. She picked a table under a section of veranda while he ordered them drinks and snacks, and his espeon and her glaceon sat on the shadier side, a bowl for the each of them and water to be shared.

“It’s not  _ that  _ bad,” Dexio reasons. Sina finally turns away from her less-than-impressed inspection of the minimal trellis panelling on the teashop proper, sighing to herself.

“I know! I was just expecting more.... _ culture.”  _ She takes her tea in both hands, bringing it close to her nose to breathe in the scent. “But I suppose nowhere can beat the cafes back in Lumiose,” she concludes, taking a sip.

“It’s been a fairly good spot for research though, I’m surprised. What do you think about their space research? The abnormal reactions that objects have with the environment once they reach the planet…” It was still on his mind, so much that Dexio nearly missed Sina fiddling with her bag at the foot of her chair.

“It’s not surprising, is it?” she answers all the same, apparently not distracted. “It’s still fascinating, but we’ve discovered ways to make pokèmon evolve by trading through PCs. No one still knows what does it. Some kind of reaction, yes, but it’s a mystery  _ how! _ ”

And as she says all that, she’s taken a small silver flask in hand, unscrewed the lid and poured some liquid into her drink, her tea. She was  _ prepared— _ but was this really something to be surprised over? Dexio tries to keep down the smile on his lips, but can’t help but shake his head helplessly a little.

“It just makes you question what else we can achieve with pokèmon, the more we discover.” Ah, his voice feels warmer just at Sina’s presence and her ways. “What more  _ are  _ they capable of? Will it be better for them? What will it mean for the future?”

“Dexio, you know how to charm a woman, speaking like that,” she says sweetly, and tilts the flask in gesture to him. “Go on then,” he says, and she pours him a splash.

Why not. He raises his tea and its mysterious substance (hah) up.

“To the future?” he toasts. 

“To the future,” she repeats, and raises her own before taking a drink.

They walk some more along the gardens, taking pictures and allowing their pokèmon to enjoy the atmosphere, or those that would enjoy it. They argue over what pokèmon the pond is supposed to represent, to which Sina ridiculously asks two adults and three children for their opinion. 

All but one says it’s a gyarados (the other says a krabby), but Sina continues to bite at her nails.

“No, no. It has to be some Johtonian pokèmon. Like one of those blue dragon types. They’re just guessing.”

Just guessing! It wasn’t a win for him she would concede to, but it was no less fun to tease her over for as long as he’d get away with it. She finally suggests moodily that they leave and see more of the city, and should it be any surprise that when they near the exit that he hears his espeon chirp, and point out for him that Sina has actually completely disappeared from his side?

Figures!

It’s easy to find her, given that she couldn’t have gotten very far; plus, his espeon had been paying better attention to lead the way. Sina and her glaceon have gone behind a low hung tree with a crooked arm, its branches splaying out weeping leaves over grass and flowers like an umbrella, as far over as over the pond’s edge.

There’s no need for him to call out,  _ ‘what are you doing?’ _ . It’s very obvious what one is doing when attempting to be conspicuous behind a tree, peeking over its side. So Dexio creeps behind her, takes to the other side of the tree to her left and peers through the curtain of green tassels, to see what it is she sees.

It’s Monsieurs Red and Green, coming up to one of the gazebos small enough for only couples to sit under. Red sits down with a slouch to his posture, while Green takes to leaning inward; an arm resting on the back of the seating, propping a leg up over the other. 

_ “Sina!”  _

“Shh,  _ shhh! _ Look,  _ look!  _ Boyfriends! I told you! Is it a proposal!?”

She’s practically buzzing beside him, like the noise of a ledian in flight in physical form. Her imagination has to be going wild again he reasons, looking back from her to them. Boyfriends or  _ just  _ friends, either would sit like this. Very comfortable with one another, with Monsieur Green Trouser’s hand slipping from the ankle of his foot and to his waist, where his pocket sat.

Oh.

Oh?

Oh dear, oh dear. Oh,  _ dear.  _ Dexio does his best to try and peel his eyes away, but, isn’t it rather lumpy looking, his pocket…?

“Oh, Sina, we really shouldn’t…” Please, self, listen to the reason coming out of your own mouth! Look to the side—is that a pikachu there, peeking over the edge to spy on the pair?

“This is a fairytale come alive, I need to see it!” Sina insists, absolutely no help to the situation. “Look, look, you can read it all in Greenboy’s body language!”

It doesn’t help when Greenboy shifts noticeably closer to his companion, saying something to make the hatted man laugh, his arms folded loosely across his chest. Yes, he’s wearing his hat again today too, his head tilting towards his friend’s ( _ boy _ friend’s?), the inches part between their faces no bigger than if Dexio were to fit a hand in there! And Greenboy’s eyes are so low-lidded, his hand now slipped into that pocket, balled around— _ something  _ inside. 

“Sina.” He takes an arm, tugs on it lightly. Tugs again to make her move a step. “Come on, Sina. It’s time to go.”

“What? Dexio, no— no, no!

  
  


No, Dexio,

  
  
  


_ no! _ ”

 

* * *

 

**poni;**

She is  _ not  _ happy with him! 

What if it had been a love confession? A marriage proposal? Would it have  _ murdered  _ Dexio to wait a few minutes so they could find out? 

No, Sina, it wasn’t about  _ murder _ ; it was about doing what was right. But who cares about right if she gets to miss a romantic proposal under the gazebo of an Eastern style garden!?

You better believe this was an ever-present wedge in their relationship throughout the rest of their stay on Ula’ula Island and onward. There were plenty of couples around to make a remark, and oh, Dexio, do you think any of  _ them  _ became engaged recently? You don’t know? No,  _ I  _ don’t know either.

And to add to her misery, Poni Island has a bar count of  _ one _ , inside a tiny rocking submarine. Oh, but they’ll be going back there later, to see how well Dexio handles his alcohol on the rocks!

Everything else was going fine, at the very least. The main reason they came to the islands is what she would call a success, really, with their little protege helper from Akala Island becoming Alola’s first ever Champion, and doing incredibly well in collecting more pieces of Zygarde now that the troubles the islands had been facing with extraterrestrials (it counts for Ultra Beasts, no?) had apparently calmed.

That was a story and a half they would need to learn about, but Poni Island wasn’t the spot for meeting the local researchers. What it was better used for was a certain large tree, and a gathering of trainers.

Or so Dexio was sure to let her know. “It wouldn’t be very well of me if I didn’t take my pokèmon to test us on the islands strongest competitors, would it?” he had said, pokèball cheerily in hand. “I hear some of Kanto’s best Champions run this place.”

She may have been fine denying him from enjoying himself, but not his pokèmon too. And she wanted to see herself how far she could reach up the levels as well, so why not? Battling was research too, when it came to being able to witness those who could use Z-Moves with their partners, and how their battles compared to those who didn’t.

Dexio was better at this than her, but even he laughed once the end of the day came, resting on a tree log turned over, refreshing themselves.

“You know, once you get going, it’s hard to think about anything!”

That really was the pull of battling, wasn’t it?

  
  


\--

  
  


“No no no, we are going up there, and we are  _ finding  _ my glasses!”

Trust Sina to get them all the way through Poni’s Plains and then,  _ then  _ touch her head and go, “My sunglasses?” And make them

 

Go 

 

All the way

 

Back to the Battle Tree.

“Nope,” she said once to his _ ‘but’, _ approaching the hanging curtain now hiding the entrance to the tree, not another soul around. There was barely any day left, only the torches still aflame to give them any guidance amongst the flat shapes the world was turning into around them. All he  _ had  _ wanted to say was, what about the log? The one we sat on? Over here?

But Dexio guessed  _ he  _ was searching the log, and then he would have to go up all the way to find her!

And guess what?

Up, up, up, all the way he goes, her glasses  _ exactly  _ where he said they’d be!

He doesn’t usually grumble about Sina’s ways, but he does when they’ve walked from nearly one side of the island to the other,  _ twice _ , and all because she didn’t want to wait the next day to come back for them.

Not all the fires have kept at the torches on each level of the platforms, and Dexio’s not sure  _ how  _ high Sina must’ve climbed with how many curving steps and platforms have been repeating under his feet. He wonders once if he accidentally turned around, or maybe got on a different set of platforms than her, then tosses  _ that  _ anxious mess of a thought out of his mind, thank you!

Eventually though, thank the skies, Dexio spots her, a blackened figure about to ascend farther up a sloping bridge. Branches now hang heavily around the side of them, roofs built above their head to keep most of the tree’s limbs out of their hair.

_ “Sina _ ,” he says, and he walks over and takes a hold of a wrist, feeling what one calls the side effect of  _ getting old, _ “I can’t believe you climbed—”

And Sina slaps a hand across his mouth, shutting him with a squeak. She puts a finger over her lips, then jabs upwards above their heads. Dexio listens, despite his heart thumping a little in his chest.

But—there’s voices.

Oh. Oh no.

He tries to tell her no without words, but narrowed brows in the dark aren’t useful tools, and Sina—whispering,  _ “what if it’s those Kanto trainers?”— _ is already turned and walking, crouched, towards the curved bridge leading to the upper floor. 

It’s a tough choice. To encourage Sina by going along with it, or pretending that he could influence her to change her nosy ways, and drag her back?

But it turns out he’s just as nosy as she, especially when it comes with the possibility of catching a glimpse of Kanto’s best trainers, and follows her not far behind, bent ridiculously in the same fashion as she. He trails her shadowed form until she stops, and waits on any indication to come from a hand, a turned head. Anything, Sina? Well?

Receiving nothing from her, the sounds above their heads gone or muted, Dexio Slowly creeps up towards the space beside her. He sees as the wood of the bridge gives way to the platform surface, to beyond; two figures ahead lit by torches still crackling with flame, and—

And their naked bodies standing, tangled in arms and tongues lapping between mouths. Each muscle in Dexio freezes, except for the one called his heart.

Their Green’s hands slip down Red’s back and to his ass, grasping at the firm mounds of his buttocks, making the man jump and press in their thighs, a wet chuckle sounding in response. Red’s hands were in that mess of ginger hair, one slipping down from his shoulder, to the side on his body; touching, grabbing, searching desperately, the more impatient of the pair. 

“Are you in a rush?” his friend asks huskily, bringing his mouth close to the brunette’s ear. His fingers scrape along the curve of Red’s thigh, and up. “Getting hungry?” And Green takes a step back, places a hand firm on one shoulder, the other to the side as his face.

“Down,” he tells, not asks, firmly, and all that delays the nicknamed  _ Red  _ is gauging the distance it takes for his sinking knees to find the ground. How they must feel against wood even with the towel that’s been spread below, ready, their night hardly just a spontaneous choice by both. He goes exactly where he knows he’s wanted, where he wants to be, tilting his head to allow his tongue to flick out and taste Green’s—

Sina grabs Dexio’s arm. He nods, unable to speak with his heart now stuck somewhere in his throat. Slower than even before the pair of them begin to move, searching how to go backwards on such a sloping bridge.

And it’s his foot that slips, and sends them near tumbling back onto the lower platform—or worse—with a shriek.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It turns out their actual names  _ are  _ Red and Green.

  
  
  


How about that.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 'which one with nicer ass: red or green’
> 
> thanx for the prompt.


End file.
